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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    Tyrna;
    #1
    the taigan
    Twice now he had nearly hurt the boy.

    The madness was digging its claws in deep, snarling like a rabid beast with foam and spittle dribbling from starving jaws. He wanted to let go, just finally let go and descend. It would be so freeing, he knew. It would be so powerful and right. He craved it. The rage of so many betrayals and wrongs had added up. He'd finally been pushed around too many times. As he tried righting the wrongs of others, he'd been thrown down once again.

    The fairies' betrayal was the worst of all. After everything he'd done to protect their land so graciously entrusted to him.

    He'd almost hurt the boy. Young Soldat had thrown himself between Ruan and Polaris, blocking the fragile girl of glass from Ruan's involuntary malice, his eyes wild and violent. The bear cub had only been saved by that act, striking deep enough into Ruan's heart to shake him. Just barely. Just enough for him to run the other way to hunt something else down instead. Not his children. The mulberry mage had been such a fool to trust him.

    His grey sides were slick with cold sweat by the time he finally paused, walking silently to the familiar creek. Sharp blue eyes alert, he tracked his path before taking it, cautious as the wolf he'd transformed into over the years. Each sound was considered, each scent analyzed. Until finally his hooves sank into soil moistened by water, sticky and sucking. He drank, his stare watchful as he did.

    At one point, he paused and went still. 
    There was another near.

    The low growl of warning that scraped his throat was better suited to a different creature. But he was horse now, and always would be. He could no longer touch his wolf. His nostrils flared to take in the scent, but the breeze had paused too, his Taiga's breath held in waiting.

    Knowing that its Guardian was now a danger.


    @[Tyrna]



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